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Da’s in the kitchen and not looking very happy. He stands up before Ma introduces Darcy and Sadie with a startling bark. “What is the meaning of this?”
I’m prepared for him to be angry that we reached out to Rian. The son he never met. Does he think having Darcy here means Rian will want anything from us after all this time?
As far as I knew, Da sent Rian’s mother money every month.
“Da, what’s wrong?” I ask, then give an assuring wink to Darcy, who looks worried.
“Aiden, why are you yelling in my kitchen?” Ma snaps back at him.
“I know what you’ve done,” Da says, waving to me. “You fucked up.”
“Da! There’s a wee one here.”
“Let me show the girls to their rooms. You discuss business in your office.” Ma goes to shuffle Darcy and Sadie away. “Not my kitchen.”
“No. The girl stays here.” Da wanders to the small desk across from the kitchen island Ma usually dumps junk mail on. From it, he picks up an envelope. It looks similar to the one I found in his office with the Christmas letter from Rian.
“Da.” I stand in front of Darcy, protective instincts firing through me. “Don’t talk to Darcy like that. She’s your granddaughter and a guest in this house. My guest.”
He softens at the word granddaughter. “Aye, she is. We’ll get tothatin a moment. You never thought to ask me about my son’s family you’re using to make this deal. It’s my council seat and my votes you’re promising to Kieran O’Rourke.”
I shudder, hearing him call Rian his son, but he’s also right about using all of this in the name of his council seat. “I mentioned it to Ma.”
“She’s not the head of this family!” Da roars, and it cuts through me because it’s been so long since we’ve heard him like this.
It kicks at me, and I miss it. Miss seeing my da strong and on fire.
“I’m taking the wee one for a bath and showing her to her room,” Ma argues back, and again, it’s been years since I’ve heard a harsh word between them. “You’re the head of this family when it comes to the council business, but I’m in charge of the children.”
Ma’s been at my father’s beck and call since his heart started failing. Nothing lethal to kill him. Just enough to keep him in a constant state of pain and not always aware of his surroundings.
“Aye,” Da says and bows his head to his wife.
When Ma and Sadie leave, I eye Darcy, who gnaws at her lower lip.
“Well, child, are you going to tell them, or shall I?” Da says to her.
I look from my father to Darcy. “Have you two met before?” I can’t breathe when I’m suddenly attacked with so many horrible possibilities of who Darcy really is.
“No,” Darcy answers me quietly, but looks at my da. “Is that a letter from my father?”
Da waves the envelope. “Aye. Youradoptivefather.”
“W…What?”I stammer and look at Darcy, who has her eyes closed. “You’re adopted, Darcy?”
“Aye,” Da answers for her. “I had a feeling you didn’t know that before you traipsed across the Atlantic. But I am surprised this is the first you’re hearing about it after traveling all the way back with her.” Turning to Darcy, he speaks calmer. “I regret not fighting harder to be in your father’s life when he was younger. You’re his daughter all the same, just like your brother. I have love in my heart for anyone with my name. Blood or not.” Da pushes on his cane, moving toward Darcy. “But we don’t lie. Or keep secrets.”
“What’s he talking about?” Connor asks, reminding me he’s still in the room.
Da takes a seat on a metal kitchen chair and leans on his cane. “Having a son I didn’t know felt wrong enough. When Rian started having children, it got too much for me, and I stopped reading his letters.” He looks at me. “The daughter he mentions in the Christmas letter you read, Ewan, was never born. Her mother miscarried late in her term. Rian called me late one night. Needed money for the hospital bills, which I wired the next day.” He glances over at Darcy now, who looks shaken. “He said your ma had too many scars, wouldn’t get pregnant again. When Norah mentioned you found his daughter, Ewan, I did some digging. I’m not proud that I ignored these letters, but here we are.”
I snatch the envelope from Da’s hand. Inside is another letter with photos of a toddler wearing a pink dress and white bows woven through her dark hair. Darcy, I assume. I scour the thing, looking for a clue of what my da is talking about.
My heart stops, reading these words…
We brought Darcy home today. Our adoption will be final soon. Let’s plan a family visit. Please, Dad.
Da never responded because he never read this letter until now. I can imagine the guilt wrecking him, thinking his son felt blown off all these years.
